


Quiescis

by ceinneidigh



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will, Dirty Talk, Dominant Hannibal, M/M, One Shot, Porn, Prompt Fill, Season 1 Hannibal, The One Time Hannibal is Very Rude, Top Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceinneidigh/pseuds/ceinneidigh
Summary: “Are you alright, Will?”Visibly startled, Will looked toward Hannibal just in time to see him close the door behind himself, muffling the sounds of the party beyond. Self-consciously, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded.“Yeah. Just wanted a minute. You didn’t have to come looking for me.”“I can assure you that my presence here has nothing to do with obligation,” said Hannibal, taking a deliberate step closer to the profiler.





	Quiescis

**Author's Note:**

> In which Hannibal throws a dinner party and Will tries to hide in the kitchen.

Will paused on the doorstep of Hannibal’s luxurious Baltimore home with a bottle of red wine twisting uneasily in one hand; it was recommended by his local liquor store owner, but Will had the uncomfortable suspicion – no, certainty – that the proprietor of Liberty Beverage’s taste in wine would not be a remote match for Hannibal’s fastidious palate. He hoped that it wouldn’t be too bad, smoothing his usually unruly curls back with his free hand; he’d actually made an effort to tame them for this event, and forgone the usual dog hair covered hunting chic in favor of a plain blue button down shirt and dark slacks. Expensive vehicles lined the driveway, gleaming in the moonlight; he wondered how he’d let himself get talked into a dinner party with a bunch of socialites; it didn’t really improve matters that Jack and Alana would also be attending.

Actually, he knew perfectly well why he’d agreed to this, even if he wouldn’t _quite_ admit it to himself – because Hannibal had asked him to. He’d been standing beside him after a crime scene, high Nordic cheekbones severe beneath the glow of a streetlight and close enough for Will to smell his cologne – no doubt something bespoke and obscenely expensive, it was a clean, masculine scent that reminded Will of rich, mossy earth, cold and damp from spring rain; a waiting, half-concealed vibrancy just beneath. The excuses that Will would typically give to avoid such an event inconveniently left his mildly intoxicated brain and before he could stop his treacherous mouth, he had agreed to put in an appearance. With a slightly shaky exhale, he lifted a hand and rang the doorbell.

Dr. Lecter answered it himself; a brief look of surprise and pleasure crossed the surface of his usually placid countenance before submerging back into inscrutability.

“Will,” he said, “I’m so glad that you could make it. Please, come inside.”

Will stared at him for a moment, then blinked and thrust the wine bottle in Hannibal’s general direction, who accepted it far more gracefully than it had been offered. Hannibal, clad impeccably for dinner in unusually dark shades, looked elegantly dangerous in an exquisitely tailored black suit with a burgundy waistcoat and richly patterned black silk tie in a perfect Windsor knot. He stood aside to encourage Will to enter the house when he seemed slightly reticent. The younger man’s sea green eyes shifted away from Dr. Lecter to survey the warmly lit foyer, a few well-dressed women eyeing him over their champagne flutes with more than casual interest as he walked into the room. Hannibal, slightly closer than politeness would dictate, rested a hand briefly on Will’s lower back to guide him toward the elegant space where men and women circulated among the guests in dress whites with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Will looked up at him sidelong, a little startled but not entirely surprised; Hannibal often touched him, and he was beginning to grow accustomed to it. Despite his usual standoffish nature, Will was not immune to the appeal of Hannibal’s deft surgeon’s hands; indeed, his proximity was extremely distracting. He probably knew it too, thought Will with a flash of annoyance. Deliberately detaching himself, he accepted a tumbler of whiskey from a passing tray and swallowed a large mouthful of it.

Hannibal, with a brief look of poised amusement, turned away to speak to the elegantly dressed older woman who’d been trying unobtrusively to get his attention.

“Mrs. Komeda,” he said, bending slightly to brush a courtly kiss across the back of her proffered hand, “permit me to introduce a friend of mine, Will Graham.”

Her eyes drifted over Will’s lean form with sharp interest and she smiled with a slightly lifted brow.

“Lovely,” she said, “a pleasure to meet you, young man.”

“Will is a colleague,” said Hannibal, deftly answering the unspoken question, “he is an exceptionally gifted profiler with the FBI. Will, Mrs. Komeda is an ardent patron of the arts – she has been quite determined to be invited to dinner, so I could not help but oblige.”

“Have you seen him cook?” she declared, with a rather dramatic sweep of one thin arm that came dangerously close to knocking over a nearby vase, “if one must be persistent in order to garner an invitation, then persist, I shall.” Since the question seemed to be largely rhetorical, Will merely glanced sidelong at Hannibal, meeting his claret colored eyes with an unusual moment of shared amusement.

Just then, Jack Crawford entered the room, broad shouldered and robust in a conservative dark blue suit, Bella on his arm looking lovely but a little pensive in a cream silk dress. Jack promptly made a beeline for Hannibal and Will, Bella in tow, and greetings were exchanged, along with a bottle of Grey Goose; by this time, Will had begun to relax slightly, no doubt due in large part to the whiskey he’d nearly finished. In fact, he thought perhaps he ought to slow down a bit; he hadn’t eaten anything yet and he was beginning to feel rather warm and fuzzy, which was probably a bad idea around Hannibal… especially when they were close enough to touch. Jack was rambling rather too effusively about Will’s professorial work when he was interrupted by Alana Bloom, walking toward the group in a blue sheath dress that matched the color of her eyes. Will didn’t care much for the way her gaze lingered on Hannibal, with a coy smile upon her lips; the realization irked him that he was actually jealous – he reminded himself that he had no right to be, that he and Hannibal were only colleagues … despite Dr. Lecter’s tendency to touch him in a way that only fell slightly short of intimacy, and… damn it. Frustrated, he turned away to find a refill and a little privacy.

Replenished whiskey in hand, he found the kitchen blessedly deserted; all of the food was already served, and the hired sous chefs had cleaned up and departed, leaving only the aroma of herbs and meat lingering behind them. The lights were dimmed, only a soft glow from beneath the cabinets illuminated the gleaming counters and appliances. Will’s shoulders relaxed visibly; leaning against the stainless topped island, he swallowed a mouthful of the excellent whiskey and listened to the hum of conversation and classical music from the nearby rooms. It was just distant enough to be unobtrusive; lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice the shadow that fell across the tiled granite floor and the subtle clip of approaching shoes. At least, until a familiar voice spoke, smoky and accented.

“Are you alright, Will?”

Visibly startled, Will looked toward Hannibal just in time to see him close the door behind himself, muffling the sounds of the party beyond. Self-consciously, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded.

“Yeah. Just wanted a minute. You didn’t have to come looking for me.”

“I can assure you that my presence here has nothing to do with obligation,” said Hannibal, taking a deliberate step closer to the profiler. Will’s breath caught; unsure of Dr. Lecter’s intentions, he instinctively pressed his back to the island, abandoning his drink on the stainless surface.

“I’m sure your other guests are missing you,” said Will, uncertainty laced with a twist of spite, “Alana only just arrived.”

“I’m afraid that temptation has lured me into unconscionable rudeness,” replied Hannibal, meeting Will’s sea green gaze with an intensity that sent an instinctive thrill down his spine. He was far too close for politeness now; a scant few inches separated them and Will could feel the warmth of the solid body in front of him, the heady scent of Hannibal’s cologne and the unique scent that was _him_ beneath it flooding his senses.

“What could possibly tempt you enough to abandon your guests?” asked Will, striving for a casual tone and failing completely. Without warning, Hannibal captured both of Will’s wrists, pinning them against the small of his back as he stepped fully into Will’s space, pressing the length of his body against the profiler’s. Adrenaline shot through Will’s veins; a flash of instinct pushed him to try and free his hands but it was impossible; he hadn’t realized until that moment how strong Hannibal actually was. Nor how fast. And _Christ_ he was turned on.

When Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s wrists and leaned into his neck, grazing the pale skin with sharp canines, Will uttered a low, breathy moan. Dr. Lecter trailed nipping bites, sucking marks across the side of his neck to his upturned throat, bared in submission; Will’s hips canted forward, blindly seeking more solid contact. Releasing Will’s wrists, Hannibal drew back and looked him in the face; in the dim light, his eyes were nearly black, glinting redly. Then, he leaned in and met Will’s pliantly parted lips with his own, taking his time about exploring Will’s plush mouth as though there were not fifty guests milling around sampling his culinary creations nearby; his hot tongue sliding leisurely against Will’s as the younger man wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s broad shoulders tightly, as if they could somehow merge with one another. When he finally drew back, Will’s face was flushed, his pupils dilated; he looked deliciously feverish. Hannibal slid his hands over Will’s narrow hips possessively, pulling him flush against his own body; Will’s eyes widened slightly at the insistent press of Dr. Lecter’s erection against his lower abdomen; he felt hot and huge through the black material.

“I didn’t know – I thought, you and Alana – “ he managed to say, rather breathlessly.

“Alana is a colleague and a friend,” said Dr. Lecter, blandly, “nothing more.”

He moved back a fraction, but only far enough to deftly unbuckle Will’s belt.

“Wait – not here,” protested Will, rather weakly. He did not attempt to stop Hannibal from unfastening the button and lowering the zipper of his slacks, however.

“Yes – here, Will,” said Dr. Lecter, his authoritative tone brooking no refusal, “I’m going to fuck you right here, and you are going to take it – do you understand?”

The unexpected obscenity spoken in Hannibal’s impeccable European accent had the same effect on Will’s level of arousal as pouring gasoline on a fire. His breath quickened and he nodded, his cock already painfully hard as Hannibal dragged his slacks down over his hips and thighs, leaving them to puddle around his shins. The exposure was unnerving and thrilling in equal measures; he found himself suddenly hyper aware of the muted sound of conversation and music.

“Did you lock the door?” he asked, voice roughened with lust.

“No,” said Hannibal, imperturbably. His warm hand closed around Will’s cock, stroking him slowly and expertly, and Will promptly forgot about the door with a gasp of pleasure. Dr. Lecter paused to look into Will’s face; his eyes were half closed, lips parted, a becoming flush across his cheekbones. A look of dark approval crossed the monster’s cleanly sculpted countenance, and then he lowered himself to his knees. Will exhaled a shuddering breath as Hannibal pinned him against the stainless island with a forearm across his abdomen and swallowed him to the hilt.

“Oh – _God_ Hannibal – “ Will moaned, shockingly loud in the quiet room; the sound seemed to reverberate from all of the gleaming surfaces. Hannibal drew back, his cheeks hollowing briefly as he savored the slide of hot flesh, and then looked up at Will.

“Do you like the idea of the guests knowing precisely how much you are enjoying yourself, Will?” he inquired, a wicked flicker in his dark eyes, “no? You had better be quiet then.” He spent a few more moments leisurely sucking down Will’s straining cock in slow, tortuous strokes as Will struggled not to make too much noise; when Hannibal stood up with his usual lithe elegance, idly resettling the knife crease of his trousers, Will uttered a needy sound that was nearly a whine.

“Turn around, Will.”

Will did as he was told, his pulse racing; he could scarcely believe what he was doing. Hannibal helped himself to a generous amount of olive oil from a nearby cruet, deliberately letting a thick drop trickle between Will’s buttocks as he placed his free hand between his tensed shoulder blades and firmly shoved him so that he was bent over the stainless steel island. Will braced himself with his palms flat on the cold surface, spreading his feet as far apart as his slacks would allow. A low groan passed his lips as he felt Hannibal’s skilled digits, slick with oil, slide over his perineum, massaging circles into the tender skin before breaching his tight entrance with the tip of one finger, then a slow, teasing glide over and around the taut opening. Will was pushing his hips backward when Dr. Lecter abruptly slid two fingers inside him, firmly stroking across his prostate over and over, making him moan helplessly.

“Hannibal … please.”

“Please what, Will?”

“Please fuck me – I need – “

“Listen to yourself, Will… what do you suppose Jack would think if he could hear you begging so nicely to be fucked?”

Will, cheeks burning crimson, lowered his head. The taut muscles of his thighs were quivering. The familiar metallic sound of a belt being unbuckled made his cock twitch, the head slippery and wet, flushed almost as rosy as his face. A rustle of cloth, and the hot, firm weight of Dr. Lecter’s cock resting against the rounded curve of Will’s ass.

“I imagine that Mrs. Komeda and her friends would be quite scandalized at the sight of my colleague bent over in the kitchen – can you imagine them seeing you stretched and trembling, waiting to be filled?”

Will, who was both cursed and blessed with a razor sharp imagination, could picture it all too well; the idea was not entirely repulsive, he was mildly horrified to note. He uttered a choked groan as the thick, blunt head of Hannibal’s cock nudged his entrance, then slid partway inside; he gave Will only a brief moment to adjust to the intense stretch before sheathing his full length, slick with oil and nearly too big for Will to handle.

“ _Fuck_ ,” hissed Will, perspiration from his palms slippery against the stainless steel surface. It was so clean that he could see a blurred reflection of his face in it. Hannibal grasped his hips with bruising force, and then he began to thrust steadily in and out of Will’s taut body, pulling him roughly back into the cradle of his hips with every solid stroke. The angle shoved the slick, swollen head of Hannibal’s cock brutally over Will’s prostate again and again, and Will was forced to clamp his mouth against his outstretched hand to muffle his cries.

“What a filthy, beautiful boy you are,” Hannibal said, roughly, “would your colleagues at the FBI be shocked to see you like this? So grateful to be fucked hard, so eager for it?”

Will panted and moaned helplessly as his body began to spasm with pleasure; then Hannibal’s hand was on his slippery cock, sliding over the shaft in a rhythm as merciless as that of his rough thrusts into Will’s body. Dr. Lecter leaned down then, his voice throaty with lust, and murmured,

“What do you suppose Dr. Bloom would say if she saw you coming apart like this, under my hands?”

It was this last that pushed Will over the edge; with hoarse, desperate gasps and cries that he no longer cared about muffling, he arched his back, hands curling into fists on the stainless steel, and trembled through the most violent orgasm he had ever experienced, ropes of semen spattering the side of the island. Hannibal tensed, pulling Will up against him as he came with a low pitched sound that was very nearly a snarl; the hot pulse of wetness inside him sent Will into a shudder of pure pleasure.

It took a few moments to clean up and gather themselves together again; Will was rather rumpled looking, with an expression of drowsy satisfaction that was highly unusual for him, while Hannibal somehow ended up looking completely put together, right down to the slicked back hair.

“Shall we rejoin the party?” inquired Hannibal.

“I guess so,” said Will, reluctant to leave their dimly lit haven. He followed Hannibal down the hallway toward the small group clustered around a floral display – Jack, Bella and Alana watched them approach with concerned curiosity. It was unlike Hannibal to disappear in the middle of a dinner party, and Will looked like he’d fallen into a bush or something and was walking with a slight limp. The assumption among the group appeared to be that Will had had too much to drink.

“Need a ride home?” inquired Jack, rather jovially.

“No thanks,” said Will, blinking, “I’m fine.”

“You two sure were gone a long time.”

“I must apologize,” said Hannibal, looking rather smug, “it was a matter of some urgency.”

Alana narrowed her eyes at the beginnings of bruises on Will’s neck. They did not look like anything other than bite marks. Without a word, she stalked off and threw back a full glass of champagne.

“Dessert, anyone?” asked Hannibal, serenely.


End file.
